


Home

by FleetofShippyShips



Series: Conversations [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-30 23:11:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8553328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetofShippyShips/pseuds/FleetofShippyShips
Summary: Arthur and Merlin make it back to Camelot, and Arthur finally tires of talking in circles.





	

Merlin listened to the low rumble of Gaius’ voice as he spoke to the king. The words meant nothing to him, he couldn’t focus. The sound, however, soothed him. Gaius had come to mean a great deal to him, and knowing he was near, that Arthur would be well, it calmed him. The prince, however, offered no such comfort. He sat by his fire, leg propped up, shivering. Merlin bustled around, laying a blanket over him, even as Arthur shot him a dark glare for it.

There was a pulse of anger within Merlin’s veins. The way Uther had spoken to Arthur had made his magic fly to the surface so strongly he’d almost used it. Watching Arthur shrink into himself had been more painful than the throbbing wound on his arm. He’d stepped forward to take the blame for Arthur’s supposed cowardice, but had only made matters worse.

Merlin did not doubt Uther was pleased that Arthur was well. Calling his son a coward for leaving the battle was easy with him safe in the castle. Merlin would probably be skewered on Uther’s sword if he had returned with news of Arthur’s death instead. Still, the man was unnecessarily cruel. It was clear that Arthur was not happy to be there. He must be aching to return to his men, if they even survived.

“I will notify you when we know more,” Uther said, his eyes fixed on Arthur, and his eyes unreadable. Gaius had left without Merlin’s notice, and he stiffened. Being alone with Uther, a constant danger to him, and Arthur, currently very angry with him, was not something that he found comfortable. “Do not bother leaving your rooms. I will let you know when I wish to see you about the castle again.”

Arthur’s grip on the blanket tightened, and his jaw clenched. Uther swept out almost as angrily as he’d swept in. There was silence for brief moment, and Merlin was almost afraid to move as he heard the door slam shut. Arthur kept his gaze on the fire, as it had been since halfway through Uther’s tirade. Merlin ran the pads of his forefingers over the blunt nails of his thumbs. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself by fidgeting openly, but neither could he stay completely still.

The urge to speak, to say something loose and silly was overwhelming. He wanted desperately to dispel the tension that was in every line of Arthur’s body, but he was too afraid. He had grossly overstepped in the way he had forced Arthur to return. It hardly mattered that he’d saved his life, not when he had broken so many rules to do so. Not when Uther had been so cruel in response.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked instead, gently.

“No.”

The reply was short, curt. Merlin shivered at how Arthur’s voice was devoid of anger, and yet somehow more horrifying than if he’d yelled. Still half afraid of what Arthur might choose as his punishment, Merlin turned to leave. A tight grip on his wrist stopped him. He looked back at Arthur, but the prince was still staring at the fire. The grip with which he held Merlin’s wrist was not painful, but it was firm.

“I did not dismiss you,” Arthur said quietly.

“Of course,” Merlin said, turning back to face the fire, still standing next to where Arthur was slouched in his most comfortable chair. “My apologies.”

A wince flashed over Arthur’s face, but was quickly gone again. Merlin frowned.

“Are you in pain?” he asked, looking down to his now-covered leg. Gaius had treated him well, but it was a deep, large wound. Even with his tinctures, the pain would linger. Merlin didn’t know how he had managed to walk on it for two days, and then still be able to fight.

“Help me to bed,” Arthur said, his words accompanied by a grimace as he sat upright.

Merlin swallowed against the flash of alarm those words brought. Arthur was not one to so easily ask for aid. It was true, when they had arrived outside the castle, he had fallen the moment Merlin had helped him from the horse, and been unable to walk unaided. Still, Merlin did not expect him to ask so easily.

Gently, slowly, he helped him over to the bed. The weight of him was hard to manoeuvre, but they managed. Gaius should have treated him in bed, but Arthur had wanted to sit up. Merlin had assumed he would sit up all night, until he heard news, and could not think what had changed his mind. Perhaps he was in more pain than he was showing. Or perhaps Gaius had put something in his tincture to make him rest.

As he settled him into bed, he was unable to stop himself from gently pressing his hand to Arthur’s forehead, more as a gesture of comfort than any attempt to check his temperature. Arthur looked up, meeting his eyes for a long moment, and Merlin shivered, dropping his gaze.

“What will my punishment be?” he asked softly. The words were not what he had intended to say, but he did not regret them. Planning always made Arthur feel more at ease, particularly planning the many ways he would punish and humiliate Merlin. Seeing him like that, Merlin just wanted to make him feel better, even if that meant he himself might suffer.

Arthur frowned as Merlin removed his hand and kneeled by the bed. It was a testament to how he must feel, that he did not speak scornful words to match his expression of surprise and disdain.

“Punishment for what, Merlin?”

Merlin swallowed, if it was Arthur’s desire to tease it out to make him feel worse, that was his right. Even though they had been in battle, and the knights had been distracted, Merlin had manhandled him, yelled at him, and cursed him in public in his attempts to get him to leave. If Uther had been there, he’d be dead, or at the very least, severely flogged and dismissed from service. Even in private, Arthur never let him go that far.

“For what I did.”

Arthur frowned again. “What did you do?”

Merlin flushed. He could barely put it into words. He wanted to joke about it, to say something inappropriate and teasing, but it wasn’t the time. Arthur was wounded, he was separated from his knights, most of whom could be dead. It was not the time to play games.

“I forced you to come back. I shouted at you,” Merlin said quietly, thinking back. He’d also said something that had turned Arthur even more livid with rage, though he was not entirely sure he understood the severity of his reaction. _If you go, I go. If you stay, I stay_.

_You would dare use that against me?_

Such rage. Merlin shivered. “I said things I shouldn’t have.”

“I’m not going to punish you,” Arthur said, still frowning at him. “You saved my life.”

Merlin stood, uncomfortable and out of his depth. Arthur just didn’t acknowledge things like that. Any time Merlin claimed to have protected him, he usually laughed it off. It was like he was a completely different person now. The only times he’d ever been like that was when one of them was mortally wounded, or in great danger. They were out of danger now, safe inside the castle. Yet still, _still_ , Arthur was speaking strangely. He must be even more upset than Merlin had anticipated. Merlin himself was upset. He did not know many of the knights well, but he too would mourn them, if they were dead.

“We all say things in the heat of battle that we might later regret,” Arthur said slowly, drawing Merlin out of his thoughts again. “You said what you had to in order to make me leave, to make sure I lived. I can’t punish you for that.”

Merlin nodded, though he didn’t really understand. It was too unusual, not when Arthur would sometimes throw him in the stocks for the most minor of offences. On the way back, he’d talked of dismissing him, asking what Merlin would do. Why bring that up, if he hadn’t thought about doing it?

“I’ll leave you to rest then,” he said, turning once again to leave.

As before, a hand caught his wrist. Arthur’s grip was more gentle than before, and Merlin cringed. He’d made himself appear weak again. He didn’t meet Arthur’s eyes, but looked down at where he held his wrist instead.

“Arthur?”

“I still haven’t dismissed you yet.”

Arthur’s tone was lighter than before, but it still made Merlin shiver. There was a tenseness between them now. After their talks the last few nights, and the way Arthur had taken comfort in Merlin holding him on the ride back, they were at odds. Merlin didn’t like it. He wanted things back the way they were. The danger had made them both speak differently than they normally would, but the danger was over.

“What do you require?” he asked, still not looking at him.

He was being unfair, he knew. Just because the danger was over didn’t mean Arthur felt better. His knights were still out there, he’d still left them. Merlin’s discomfort with the way Arthur was acting was selfish. He needed to push it aside and be a good friend to him, even if they were not truly the friends Merlin considered them to be.

Arthur said nothing, and Merlin was forced to look at him. The prince was staring at him with a slight furrow to his brow, and Merlin felt better. It was clear he was not the only one uneasy about the way they were speaking. Still, if that was the case, why did Arthur keep doing it?

“You didn’t actually think I would punish you, did you?” Arthur asked, tugging until Merlin stumbled closer to the bed. “Merlin, I told you, I’m not going to dismiss you.”

Merlin flushed. He wanted to leave. That tone of voice...Arthur was straying towards something serious again.

“The king would—”

“I am not my fath—” Arthur cut himself off and sucked in a slow inhale. As he exhaled, just as slowly, he winced, his free hand landing near his leg.  “Sit down.”

“What?”

“Sit down, you fool!” Arthur snapped, gesturing at the other side of his bed. Merlin coloured, staring between Arthur’s face and the bed, completely incredulous. “Don’t look at me like that, you sodding idiot. I can’t stand you hovering over me like this. Sit down.”

“Arthur, I’m a servant, I can’t just—”

“I gave you an order, Merlin,” Arthur said sternly, tugging at his wrist again.

Merlin stared wide eyed at him, taking in the stubborn set to his jaw, but also the lines of pain around his eyes. Glancing down, he saw the way Arthur was clutching at the sheet near his leg. With great trepidation, he worked his wrist free from Arthur’s grip, and walked around, taking off his boots, and then clambering onto the other side of the bed. Arthur winced as he was jolted, and Merlin muttered an apology. He settled near him, leaning against the headboard as Arthur was.

Tired and sore from their long ride, he couldn’t help a soft sigh as he sank into the bed. Arthur shook his head, looking almost amused, but his eyes were still serious. There was an awkward silence, during which Merlin tried not to look at him. He’d thrown himself on Arthur’s bed more than once when the prat wasn’t around. First, as a sort of rebellion. Arthur would never know a lowly servant had been on his bed. And later, because it was so comfortable, and a few moments rest would never be noticed. Now, he felt both guilty and incredibly uncomfortable. It was one thing to sit on his bed when Arthur wasn’t around, but he was right there next to him now.

“Why do you fight me on every bloody request?” Arthur muttered, though he didn’t look at him.

“To be fair, you make some very silly requests,” Merlin said, trying to bring some normalcy to their interaction. Arthur shot him a look that made him uncomfortable, and he quickly added, “Sire.”

“I ordered that you and Leon scout to our direct East, keeping abreast and only just out of sight but still within range of hearing,” Arthur said, his voice tense again as he made a sharp gesture with one arm. “They came from our East.”

Merlin felt uneasy. It was true, he had strayed, and Leon had even admonished him for it, although he hadn’t stopped him. Merlin had been following his magic, looking for food in the same way he’d found water the previous day. He’d only had to utter ‘I have a feeling’ for all of Leon’s protests to cease.

“If I hadn’t disobeyed, Sir Leon and I would be dead,” Merlin said quietly. Although, in truth, he would have used his magic even if it meant revealing himself to Leon. He wanted to stay by Arthur’s side, and would do his best to be discreet, but he didn’t want to die needlessly either.

Arthur looked away from him. “I am more than aware of that, do you think me a fool?” he said shortly.

“Then why bring it up?” Merlin snapped. He was tired of these conversations, he wished Arthur would just make himself plain. “You can’t get mad at me for disobeying unless you wanted me to die. Obeying would have meant death.”

“You didn’t know that when you did it!” Arthur hissed.

“I was trying to be helpful, I was looking for food!”

Arthur turned to stare at him, looking shocked and angry. “I told you to hold that position because we could get to you faster if something happened,” he said, his voice almost shaking. “Further North or South of our position would have taken longer to reach!”

Merlin scoffed. “You were in no state to come to our aide if something had happened.”

Arthur appeared enraged, and gripped Merlin’s nearest wrist again. The gesture was becoming a habit since their ride back to Camelot, it seemed, and Merlin frowned. He didn’t feel bad anymore for making him angry. Perhaps in his anger, Arthur might be more clear about what he hoped to achieve from their conversation. Merlin was at his wit’s end trying to figure it out. He didn’t want it to be about his magic, but he’d even prefer that to not knowing.

“That’s not the point, Merlin,” he snapped. “I need to know where all my men are, at all times, in a situation like that. You can’t just wander off!”

“Following your orders and being where you thought I was would have got me killed!” Merlin snapped.

Arthur paled, and his grip on Merlin’s wrist tightened. They stared at each other for a few moments, and Merlin was even more uneasy with his place on Arthur’s bed. They were too close, and he should not have been there to begin with. It was breach in protocol. Normally, he wouldn’t care, but it suddenly made their argument seem almost too intimate. It would be better if he was standing. If he was standing, he could more easily get away.

“Don’t you think I know that?” Arthur said quietly, his voice low, his eyes searching Merlin’s. There was a frown creasing his brow again, and he almost looked sad. “Don’t you understand? I thought…until you showed up…I had every reason to believe you were where I’d sent you, Merlin.”

Merlin stared back, his face flushing again. He’d not heard Arthur so lost for words before. They were right back where they’d been in their previous conversations, only now Arthur had a hand around one of his wrists, and Merlin would not be able to get away without jostling him and hurting his leg again. Probably as the royal prat had planned.

“I thought you were dead,” Arthur said softly, his grip on Merlin’s wrist slackening. “You know this, you used it against me. Why are you acting ignorant now? What is this game you’re playing?”

Merlin blinked at him, not comprehending at all. “Game?”

Arthur made an annoyed sound. “It appeared that we were saying the same things, but then you said you didn’t understand, and I believed you. You are particularly dense, after all,” he muttered. “But then you used it against me to make me leave. I can’t…not now, Merlin. Not while they’re still out there, probably dead. I can’t do this now.”

His voice turned pleading near the end, and Merlin was only more confused. The only thing he’d used against Arthur was his aversion to seeing him get hurt. It wasn’t hard, Merlin had manipulated him like that before, using the way he cared about people to guide him to where he needed to go. Arthur didn’t like seeing anyone get hurt, not really.

“I need to know. Speak plainly with me,” Arthur said, and his voice had a hint of authority in it. “Why did you say it?”

Merlin swallowed nervously. “That I would stay if you did?” he asked, just to be sure Arthur wasn’t talking about something else. He hoped Arthur was talking about something else.

“Yes, and that you would go if I did,” Arthur said, his eyes searching, his tone calm again.

“You said…you said you didn’t like seeing me get hurt,” Merlin said slowly, wondering why Arthur had to ask for clarity. Surely his motives were nothing but clear. “I needed to get you away from there, before you were hurt again, before you died. I didn’t think it would work, but I had to try everything.”

Arthur looked at him as if he’d gone mad. “You didn’t think it would work?”

Merlin shook his head. He hadn’t, really. It was fairly impossible to pull Arthur away from something he considered his duty, no, his moral obligation. Staying with his knights, men he had led into danger, staying even if it meant his own death, Merlin knew what that meant to him. In truth, he hadn’t really believed it was those words that had swayed him. Realising now that they had made him uneasy. For Arthur to have abandoned his men as the result of those words...Merlin didn’t really want to think about that.

“I know how hard that was for you,” Merlin said seriously. As much as he wanted to leave and not ever talk about it again, he wanted Arthur to know that. “I’m sorry I had to do it, but your safety comes first.”

Arthur stared at him, the crease between his brows only deepening. “You didn’t think your safety was enough to—” Arthur cut himself off, and frowned more deeply, less irritated and more concerned. “Merlin, what do you think I’ve been talking about, these past few days?”

Merlin averted his eyes. He had thought perhaps his magic, at times. That he’d been careless and Arthur had seen enough to grow suspicious. Clearly he had been wrong, but was in no position to say so. Instead, he shrugged, and looked down at his lap.

“No, really, Merlin,” Arthur said, his tone becoming tense. “I’m tired of not knowing what you mean. You said you would stay by my side, even if it meant your death. You said you would stay in Camelot if I dismissed you. How can you say that and not understand that the threat of your death was enough to make me leave?”

Merlin felt his breath leave him and couldn’t help but meet his eyes. To hear it laid out like that...it gave him a sudden clarity he hadn’t had before. They were talking about what they meant to each other. Immediately, he cringed. Arthur tensed, his expression closing off, and his hand releasing Merlin’s wrist.

“I didn’t…I don’t…” Merlin struggled. He didn’t know what to do or say. He knew the way he felt for Arthur was too big, too important. It was so tied up in their shared destiny, and so many near death experiences. How could he even begin to articulate that to Arthur, without revealing his magic? He was barely able to articulate it within his own thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said stiffly, looking uncomfortable and averting his eyes. “I misread.”

“No, it’s not…it’s…” Merlin trailed off and made a frustrated sound. How could he speak of Arthur meaning so much to him, when he was keeping his magic a secret? He knew he had to, he wasn’t a fool. It was now clear that Arthur could not bear to see him die, and would be unlikely to offer him up to Uther, but he couldn’t put that burden on Arthur. He had such a complicated relationship with his father, and Merlin didn’t want to make that harder for him by asking him to lie about something so serious.

“Are we friends then?” Merlin asked.

Arthur turned to look at him again, frowning with the same slightly irritated, yet concerned expression. “You didn’t know we were friends?”

Merlin coloured, feeling stupid. He’d always thought they were, a bit, of a sort. It was hard, with Arthur’s position, with Merlin always lying about his magic. It was hard to know where they stood with each other.

“I’m just a servant, like you said,” Merlin muttered, trying to sound unaffected, but his worry was showing through anyway. He looked away. “You could dismiss me whenever you like.”

A warm hand caught his chin, and turned his head back. Merlin cursed the way he flushed darker from the gesture. He felt so lost. Everything Arthur had been saying since the ambush made him feel lost. It disturbed the balance between them, it made the line shift until Merlin didn’t know where it was, or if it even existed in those conversations. The way Arthur was acting, it made him feel like he could say anything. That was dangerous.

“Merlin,” Arthur said gently, his hand sliding to rest on the side of Merlin’s neck once he’d turned his head. “You’d just told me that as a manservant, your place was by my side, even if that mean walking to your death. Of course I thought of dismissing you.”

“It’s true though,” Merlin replied sullenly, trying to mask the way Arthur’s tone made him shiver. It was so soft, like he was once again treating Merlin as weak and breakable, as if a strong word might make him crumble. He didn’t like it, he wanted to snap back at him, to make him angry. Only, he wasn’t entirely sure how Arthur would react to that, now. The unpredictability of the situation only made him more nervous.

“You are a terrible servant,” Arthur said.

Merlin couldn’t even find it in him to scowl, because Arthur’s thumb was starting to stroke over the skin behind his ear, and that was new. It was another of those annoying, gentle touches, as if Merlin was fragile. It made him shiver. It made him feel warm.

“So you’ve said, many times,” he replied, swallowing nervously.

Arthur gave him a strange, almost indulgent look. It made Merlin want to hit him.

“You are not just a servant, Merlin,” Arthur said. “If you were just a servant, I’d have dismissed you a long time ago. I don’t keep you around for the work you do, you’re awful at it. Just like you can’t follow orders, or act subservient.”

Merlin opened his mouth to speak, but he wasn’t sure what to say, and closed it again. He felt very foolish all of a sudden. He’d completely misread every conversation they’d had lately. He’d been so distracted by talk of not acting without having all the information, and jumped straight to the conclusion that it was about his magic. Then, he had considered friendship, but less than what Arthur obviously thought. Now…now he was starting to understand.

The look on Arthur’s face, the way his thumb was brushing the skin behind his ear. All those gentle touches when he was pained or tired, constantly checking him in battle, more and more over the past few months. The words that had made Arthur abandon his knights. Merlin was starting to understand all too well.

“We are friends,” Arthur said gently, eyes roaming his face. “I keep you around as a servant because I want you around. But you’re a peasant, I can’t have friends like that, father wouldn’t allow it. Being my manservant, it’s the only way. I can’t say you are my friend, but you are.”

How had Merlin not seen it sooner? His mind was whirling. He’d not even considered it. Of course, why should he? Arthur was right, he was a peasant. What royal in their right mind would feel anything for a peasant? A male peasant. Merlin flushed. He’d read everything so horribly wrong.

“Do you understand now, Merlin?”

Merlin swallowed. Arthur was giving him that gentle, warm look again, the one he’d read all wrong. He’d thought it meant Arthur thought he was fragile, weak. He probably still thought that, but now Merlin knew that was not what that look meant. Now that he knew what it meant, he felt a matching warmth in him. He found he liked that look, now that he understood.

But he shouldn’t. He couldn’t. He was still hiding his magic. He was still lying to him.

“I understand now,” he said quietly.

Arthur seemed to relax a little. Merlin was still tense. He couldn’t respond. If he tried to respond, to even hint at the slightest reciprocation, there would be no going back. He couldn’t do that, not while keeping such an important secret from him.

Arthur seemed to wait for a further response, and Merlin awkwardly shifted his eyes away. He didn’t know what to say, how to answer. It was a yes and a no all at once, even though Arthur had not asked. Time continued on, and Arthur did not stop that gentle stroke of his thumb over Merlin’s skin. Nor did he ask how Merlin felt.

Merlin was beginning to suspect why. It wasn’t entirely about them. As with the ride back to Camelot, Arthur had taken comfort in his presence. Now, even safe in Camelot, even after the distraction of their conversation, it was impossible to ignore the situation. His knights were still out there, some young and new, some old and trusted. Arthur wanted to be there with them, dead or alive. He would be torn up inside, and he would need comfort. But Merlin knew he wouldn’t ask for it.

“It’s been a very long couple of days,” Merlin said slowly. He could see that Arthur was watching him closely, but he kept his gaze across the room, on the fire. “Very tiring.”

“Yes,” Arthur said. “Very overwhelming for your delicate sensibilities, I imagine.”

Merlin glared at him. “For that, I’m not asking, I’m telling,” he snapped lightly.

“Insubordinate,” Arthur muttered, though he seemed curious to see what Merlin was about to say.

“Gaius’ quarters are so far away, and I’m so very tired from dragging your lazy arse around,” Merlin said, his voice becoming lighter and lighter with each word, finding his way back to normalcy. “I think I’ll stay right here. It’s quite comfortable.”

Arthur scoffed, and Merlin waited for his response, but it didn’t come. Instead, Arthur tugged him closer by the hand on his neck, until they were leaning against each other. The movement was slow and gentle, so much in fact that it barely hurt his wounded arm at all. Arthur’s hand slid from his neck and back to his own lap, and then the only contact between them was their shoulders.

As much as he would have liked a snappy response to what he’d said, he was also glad that Arthur accepted the comfort he was offering. He hadn’t really responded to what they’d been talking about, only acknowledged that he was now aware of what Arthur was saying. Left with that uncertainty, he was surprised Arthur wasn’t making him leave out of wounded pride. It only made it more clear that he needed company, that he didn’t want to be alone.

“Will you sleep?” he asked.

“No.”

Merlin sighed. Arthur needed rest, but he doubted that advice would be well received.

“Do you need anything?” he asked instead.

Arthur turned his head, and Merlin could feel his breath gust warm over the side of his face. He shivered.

“What did you think I was talking about?” Arthur asked quietly, after a few long, heavy moments.

Merlin tensed. “I don’t know, you sounded half mad, you made no sense,” he said, a little more sharply than he should have.

Arthur bristled, but said nothing, still looking at him, breathing too close to him. Now that Merlin had realised, now that he knew, he couldn’t forget. Close was closer than before. Touch would be layered with meaning. Everything would be different now.

“You do, at least, consider me a friend in return?” Arthur asked quietly. “I think…I need to know that much, Merlin, after all this.”

Merlin winced. So, he couldn’t completely avoid responding then. Or perhaps, Arthur was forgetting to be patient and kind, in favour of distraction. Merlin couldn’t really blame him.

He turned his head, and then regretted it. Arthur was still looking at him, and they were too close.

“You know I do,” Merlin said softly, trying not to focus on how close they were. Now that he knew, now that something he’d thought an impossibility was suddenly real and attainable, he couldn’t ignore it. He’d not considered it, not really, but now that he had…it felt...he felt more drawn to Arthur than he had been before. That was something he’d thought impossible.

“I’m glad I wasn’t reading that much wrong,” Arthur said lightly, and Merlin shivered at the feel of his breath on his lips. They were too close, it wasn’t appropriate. The timing was wrong. “Even if you weren’t understanding me.”

“You could have been clearer,” Merlin couldn’t help but say, “about what you meant. You were talking in circles, vague, formless circles.”

Arthur reach out suddenly, and brushed his fingers down the side of Merlin’s face to rest over the side of his neck again. Merlin shivered, realising he should really be pulling away. The timing was all wrong, he’d only just begun to consider it. As much as he knew now of Arthur’s feelings, that didn’t change the fact it was a distraction, however genuine the sentiment behind it was.

“Clearer?”

Merlin closed his eyes and winced. He didn’t have an answer he could give, regarding his own feelings, not while his magic remained a secret. “Arthur—”

“I’m not asking,” Arthur said, his thumb resuming that maddening touch behind his ear.

“I can’t,” Merlin whispered.

“You look like you want to,” Arthur said gently, his hand moving again until his fingertips brushed over Merlin’s lips. Merlin startled, his eyes opening.

Their faces were almost too close to focus on one another.

“I can’t,” he said again.

“But you want to?” Arthur asked, barely a whisper.

Merlin shuddered. He’d never wanted to set his secret free so desperately before. The timing was wrong, it would ruin everything. Still, he felt he had to give an answer of some sort, if Arthur was being brave enough to ask so directly.

“Yes, but—”

“Merlin.”

The way Arthur said his name, his tone full of wonderment, it broke something in Merlin. He’d always felt bad for hiding his magic, but this...this was so much worse. He couldn’t...he couldn’t go on if they knew this about each other, not without telling him.

“Arthur, there are...I’m…I have secrets,” he said fearfully. “There are things I haven’t told you, things I’m keeping from you.”

Arthur pulled back a little, frowning. Merlin felt his breath catch. Now that he’d said that, he’d have to follow through, there was no way Arthur would drop it without knowing.

“What kind of secrets?”

Merlin swallowed nervously at the sudden hardness of his tone, feeling fear slide onto his face before he could stop it. Even knowing Arthur wouldn’t want to see him dead, he might still make him leave. Knowing this about him now, it didn’t really change anything in that regard. He still didn’t know how Arthur would react. He only knew that he wouldn’t want him to die.

“The kind that would put you in a very difficult position if you knew,” he said carefully, thinking that maybe he didn’t have to say it after all. “The kind I still can’t tell you now.”

Arthur frowned, opening his mouth, then closing it again. Still, his hand was on Merlin, his fingers still brushing at his lips. Even through his fear, it comforted him. The rest of Arthur was tense, his brows still furrowed, but that touch remained gentle. They locked eyes for several moments, then Arthur leaned closer again.

“You didn’t have to say that,” he said. “You could have said nothing and I’d never have known.”

Merlin shook his head slightly. “I couldn’t, not when…not…I hated lying to you before, but now…”

“Now?” Arthur said, a hopeful look in his eyes.

“This isn’t the time for this, Arthur.”

“No,” Arthur agreed. “You’re right, but…I’ve just become so tired of wondering and denying. We could have both died out there. We were in a lot more danger than you realised. I just wanted to know, to finally know, where we stood.”

Merlin sighed. Always underestimating him. “I realised the danger we were in,” he said petulantly.

Arthur’s hand slid back to Merlin’s neck, finally leaving his lips alone. Merlin was surprised he hadn’t just taken what he wanted. He sort of wished he had. Even knowing now what it was all about, the conversation was uncomfortable and awkward.

“I should have known. You were acting different, less carefree, less insubordinate, less of an idiot,” Arthur said, trying and failing to sound amused, then his forehead was pressed against Merlin’s, and his eyes closed. “These secrets…”

“It’s not the right time,” Merlin said, closing his eyes as well.

“Will you tell me, when it is?”

“Yes, even if they make you hate me,” Merlin breathed. He’d never been so close to telling him before. He felt jittery, nervous. His magic was pooling close to the surface, in case he needed it, and he had to forcefully push it down.

“You think that might happen, but you still mentioned it?”

Arthur’s voice was shaking, and Merlin wanted to tell him. But he couldn’t.

“I…I had to, if…Arthur, if—”

Merlin was cut off by Arthur finally pressing their lips together. That jittery feeling in Merlin amplified, and he clutched at Arthur’s shirt for something to hang on to. Arthur was shaking, Merlin could feel it as they leaned together. Arthur had probably kissed so many people, but kissing Merlin made him tremble. That made him almost forget how to breathe. He pressed back, deepening the kiss before Arthur could. He’d never considered it, but now he wanted it so desperately.

Arthur’s hand slid into his hair, and held him close, as if he might move away. Merlin only pressed forward, until Arthur was leaning back against the headboard, and Merlin was kissing him deeper. His mouth was hot and soft, and Merlin could scarcely believe it was happening, that he was kissing Arthur. It wasn’t until several moments later, when their tongues were pressing together, and Merlin was leaning over him, that Merlin remembered why it wasn’t a good time. Arthur had both hands on him, one in his hair, the other on his right shoulder. Merlin was all but pressing him down, and Arthur moaned into his mouth, his hand sliding down Merlin’s arm.

He couldn’t hide his reaction as Arthur pressed against his wound. Merlin pulled back and touched around the bandage gingerly. Arthur muttered an apology, staring up, breathless. Merlin stared down, crouching half over him. He didn’t know how long they’d been kissing, but he’d pushed Arthur almost flat. The movement must have hurt his leg, but he hadn’t made a sound. They stared at each other, and Merlin realised his magic was almost bursting from his skin. Alarmed, he pulled back. If it was that close, it might slip into his eyes before he realised.

Arthur frowned at his movement, shifting to sit back up again, but Merlin quickly leaned forward. He placed a hand on Arthur’s chest, and held him down, shaking his head. Arthur huffed in annoyance, but stayed down.

“Now isn’t the time,” Merlin said.

“You...I didn’t think you’d be like that.”

Merlin scowled, wondering what insult was hiding in those words. “Like what?”

“If we weren’t wounded—”

“But we are,” Merlin said, grateful for the reminder. “You need to rest, Arthur. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

“I’m not weak, Merlin,” Arthur said, sounding annoyed.

“I didn’t say that you were,” Merlin replied lightly. “But it was serious wound, and you haven’t rested properly since you got it. I’ll just leave you to—”

“You’ll stay right where you are.”

Merlin looked down at where Arthur had grasped his wrist again. He raised an eyebrow at him, but Arthur only raised one right back.

“Are you suggesting I sleep in your bed…Sire?” Merlin asked, unable to help adding that title in a teasing tone.

Arthur didn’t even reply, he just stared back, his eyes darkened still with desire, and Merlin shivered. He rather thought Arthur had been right. If they weren’t wounded, Merlin might have taken things too far. He hadn’t realised he’d wanted it so much. His eyes dropped to Arthur’s lips. He still wanted him, even with the poor timing. Arthur’s blind acceptance of his secrets only made it harder to resist. He hadn’t expected that of him, and it made him feel...he wasn’t sure exactly, but it made him want to be closer to him.

“Very well, it is a long way down to Gaius’ quarters, after all,” Merlin said lightly, sprawling back onto the bed, keeping space between them.

Arthur scoffed, but didn’t move. Merlin ran his eyes over him. He hadn’t made a sound, but shifting down the bed like that must have hurt his leg. Settling in, he lay back, sinking into the comfortable bed and staring at the canopy.

“Tomorrow,” Arthur said softly, after some time, “things have to be closer to normal again.”

Merlin smiled sadly. “I know,” he said. “I’m your servant, you are the prince. I know this.”

“When we’re alone—”

“You will be quite busy resting that leg of yours,” Merlin interrupted.

“Merlin,” Arthur chided, although his tone had not returned to normal, and was still soft in that way that made Merlin uncomfortable.

“I’m not bedding you while you’re injured,” Merlin said, going for clarity so they could end the conversation and get some sleep. Saying it aloud, acknowledging it, made him flush, but he said it anyway.

“You won’t be—” Arthur cut himself off, and Merlin turned his head to see his brow was furrowed. “I’m a prince, Merlin!”

Merlin raised an eyebrow. “I had noticed, what with being ordered about, and dressed in silly clothes and a silly hat every now and then.”

Arthur frowned, and Merlin realised he’d miscalculated. That wasn’t going to end the conversation at all, he should have chosen his wording more carefully.

“You’ve done this before then,” Arthur asked calmly, “with men.”

Merlin took in his expression. He hadn’t meant his words to be taken so literally, but he didn’t see what the problem was if that was how he’d meant it.

“Sleep, Arthur,” he said. “We can talk in the morning.”

Arthur’s expression darkened somewhat, and Merlin felt his gut clench uncomfortably.

“I can’t sleep,” he said softly. “I can’t. Not while they’re out there, not until I know their fate.”

Merlin nodded, and shifted closer. That was why he was there, that was why Arthur let him stay. He didn’t want to be alone with that.

“I didn’t think you were one for men,” he said quietly, watching Arthur’s expression. If he had, he wondered if he’d have noticed Arthur’s interest sooner. Probably not. His first reaction to increased attention would always be to worry about his magic. That was his curse, living in Camelot.

“I’d not given it much thought beyond passing fancies,” Arthur said dismissively. “We weren’t talking about me.”

Merlin snorted. “What does it matter? Your royal bottom can be taken like any other bottom.”

Arthur coloured, and Merlin almost laughed, although he sensed that was probably not the right thing to do. Merlin had, of course, not been with any men. He’d never considered it at all. He was too gangly and strange to garner much attention of that sort, from anyone really, man or woman. Living in the castle however, listening to the servants and knights talk, had been an education. He watched Arthur flush and search for words. He didn’t think Arthur flustered at all about such things. At least he was distracted.

“What makes you think you can just…that’s…I’m the prince, Merlin!”

Arthur’s tone and expression made Merlin want to laugh. He hadn’t given it thought. Really, kissing had been enough of a shock, something he’d never thought of doing with Arthur. He hadn’t had time to think ahead. He was still reeling from everything that had happened, including Arthur now knowing that he was hiding something. A fact that would make it much more likely that his magic would be discovered. He wanted to sleep, but he could understand why Arthur did not. If he wanted to distract himself this way, who was Merlin to stop him?

“I think you were fairly ready to let me, a few moments ago,” he said, reaching out. He wasn’t sure he could touch, or initiate it at least. He ran his fingers lightly down Arthur’s arm.

Arthur shivered and caught his wrist. Merlin raised an eyebrow, again with the wrist holding.

“You surprised me,” Arthur said.

“You never thought about it?” Merlin asked, unable to hide his laugh. “You never wondered?”

Arthur scowled and tossed Merlin’s arm back at him.

“I tried not to think about you,” he snapped. “It was hard enough with you being everywhere I looked.”

Merlin said nothing, watching the emotions on his face. How long had Arthur struggled with that? He’d said that out there, in that dangerous situation, he’d had enough, he’d wanted to know where they stood. How long had he wondered how Merlin felt about him? Hiding his magic had distracted Merlin from ever noticing such things, and he felt rather foolish now.

“I never even thought this was a possibility,” he said quietly, dropping his eyes to Arthur’s lips. “I never even considered it.”

Arthur frowned. “But you said—”

“I didn’t need to know this was a possibility in order to feel deeply for you, Arthur,” he said softly. He still wasn’t entirely sure why he hadn’t thought of it. They were so bound together by destiny, and he’d come to care for him so much since arriving at Camelot. It just seemed right, natural, for them to be everything to each other.

Merlin had to wonder if that was driving Arthur also, if perhaps he could feel some sense of their destiny through his desire for Merlin. That was frightening to think of. He often felt as if his destiny was choking him. Should he not be angered that their closeness was possibly only due to their shared destiny? That fate was pushing them together any way it could?

“Sometimes, the way you look at me” Arthur said softly, his eyes mapping Merlin’s face, “it’s so intense, so...I can’t even describe it. That’s why I thought maybe you felt the same, but then...if I’d been wrong, and you’d talked...still, I should have said something earlier.”

Merlin swallowed. He was fairly sure at such times he would have been thinking of Arthur’s destiny, at the times when it seemed like Arthur was halfway there. He had no doubt he looked at him that way whenever Arthur was kind to a magic user or a druid.

“I wouldn’t have talked,” he said. “I am loyal to you. Always.”

Something in Arthur’s expression crumbled slightly, before hardening again, and Merlin regretted his words. Talk of loyalty would only remind him of his knights.

“But I hope you don’t expect me to suddenly act like the sun shines out of your arse, Sire,” he said, trying and failing to lighten his tone.

Arthur tried and failed to scowl. “No hope this makes you more subservient then?” he asked. “Pity, it would be such a pleasurable way to make you behave.”

Merlin fought to keep the flush from his face, but he knew he’d failed by the way Arthur’s eyes softened in a smile, although the rest of his face was unchanged.

“I’d bore you if I was any different,” Merlin said. “And someone needs to keep that ego in check.”

“Careful, or you might find yourself in the stocks,” Arthur said, and his tone was starting to lighten. Merlin fought to keep the smile off his face.

“Who would run about fetching you things while your leg heals?” he asked.

“A servant who knows what he’s doing!” Arthur snapped back playfully.

Merlin felt something relax inside him as the tension dissipated. If only he could get the stubborn prat to sleep. He fought to prevent a yawn, and failed. Arthur’s eyes softened again. Merlin still felt annoyed, thinking of how weak Arthur must still think him to be, not yet knowing of his magic, but that irritation was lessened by knowing what drove his concern.

“Get over here,” Arthur said tiredly.

Merlin opened his mouth, already scowling and ready to lecture him about his wound, but Arthur talked over him.

“You need to sleep.”

“I can sleep over here,” Merlin retorted.

“You’d sleep better over here,” Arthur replied.

Merlin rolled his eyes, but shifted until he was closer. Arthur’s eyes fell to his wounded arm, and he carefully tugged Merlin against him. Merlin tried to resist, but Arthur was warm, and he was very tired. Just like when they’d ridden back to Camelot, there was comfort in being so close. Perhaps that was what Arthur really wanted, the comfort of another. With that in mind, Merlin shifted until there was less pressure on his wound, which was already faring better after a quick treatment from Gaius before Uther had arrived.

Settling against Arthur, feeling and hearing him breathe so close was soothing. He tried not to think about how much danger they had really been in. It wasn’t as Arthur feared, they probably wouldn’t have died. Merlin would have used magic and risked his own life before he’d let that happen. Still, there was always a chance that he would not be fast enough, even with magic. Feeling Arthur against him, alive and safe, was comforting. Perhaps it was the same for him.

“Wake me if you need anything,” Merlin said, although he did not feel he would fall asleep easily.

A hand slid into his hair, and he shivered. Would Arthur be so free with his touches now? Merlin didn’t think he could grow used to it. Still, it was nice, he liked it. That hand rubbed soothing circles near the base of his skull, and he felt warm and relaxed. He didn’t really want to sleep, even though he was tired. He wanted to stay awake with Arthur in his vigil.

Sleep fell upon him anyway.


End file.
